Emily's Story
by ThePiratesParrots
Summary: Follow Emily Violet Potter's story, as she discovers an entire new world undergoing war and a family she never would have dreamed of having.
1. Prologue

_This is our first story (ever), so please be indulgent, yeah? Oh, and we don't own Harry Potter (unfortunately); everything except Em's character belongs to Rowling._

_Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!_

_**Prologue**_

Mary Macdonald was sitting at the kitchen table. Silence was complete except for the ticking emanating from the clock above the counter.

"Eleven forty two," she thought as she raised an already half-empty cup to her lips. "They'll be here soon."

She hated the lack of noise. There always seemed to be sound and movement in the orphanage these days; with the arrival of the Spencer kids, the empty space seemed to have vanished, taking with it the peace and quiet of the remote countryside. One might have thought that a few hours of silence in a house full of small children would please Mary Macdonald; however, she was so used to noise and movement that the lack thereof made her very anxious: as though life had suddenly gone from the orphanage.

It wasn't always this silent, though. An orphanage at night was quite a strange place; you could normally hear small unidentified sounds, the creaking of the stairs, the wind moving the branches of the old oak tree by the pond, a small child sobbing softly into a pillow. Tonight, nothing came to disturb the unusual silence; almost like the house was holding its breath.

"Tonight must be a very special night," concluded Mary as she drained the cup of the last drops of tea.

At the exact moment the clock struck twelve, someone knocked at the door.

"Perfect timing," thought Mary as she rose from her chair and made her way to the entrance hall. She carefully unlocked the door and, having opened it, quickly let the visitors in before locking it once more and turning to look at the couple.

"Lily, James," she murmured and bent to gaze at the small bundle of covers in Lily's arms, "and little Emily. How are you?"

"Anxious," answered Lily as James picked up the sleeping baby from his wife, "We can't ever thank you enough for this Mary."

"Where's Harry?"

"At his godfather's, hopefully asleep," Lily grimaced as she said the words. "Or more realistically playing on the toy-broom Sirius just bought him."

James grinned at this and suddenly looked away from his daughter's face to stare seriously at Mary.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked her, "No one must know she's here. We've already cast the spell that will make everyone forget she ever existed until she turns seventeen, just in case we can't come back for her."

"We will come back, James," Lily cut in fiercely, "this is only temporary-"

"You don't know that, anything could happen if _he_ finds us-"

"She'll be safe here, I can assure you." Mary murmured. "She'll be like one of my many kids until you come back to get her. I won't reveal her presence to anyone. _He_ will definitely not find her."

"The potion we gave her prevents anyone from doing so with magic, at least until she turns seventeen. Once Harry… Once what's meant to happen happens, we will come back." James said with fake-assurance, as Lily bit her lip and looked down at her daughter's sleeping face with despair. It was impossible to tell who they were trying to convince most, Mary or themselves.

There was nothing else to do than say goodbye. Lily held out her arms to hold Emily and hugged her to her chest, rocking her back and forth. James kissed the baby's forehead softly and gently placed her into Mary's arms. As they left without another word, Mary gazed down at the child's sleeping form. Her short black hair was soft against Mary's skin, and her lips formed a perfect small "o" as her breathing came in and out regularly.

"It's only to keep you safe, honey," Mary said softly as she bent to place a kiss on the baby's tiny cheek. "Mom and dad will be back soon."


	2. Chapter 1

_Second Chapter's up! Don't be afraid to leave reviews, guys, we don't bite!_

_Disclaimer: everything Harry Potter-related belongs to J.K. Rowling (well, except for Emily. She's all ours!)_

**Chapter 1**

Holding the grocery bag closer to my chest, I pushed open the small gate that led to the house. The summer breeze was warm on my bare arms, and I had to squint, unable to shield my eyes from the sun. In the distance, I could hear the Humphrey sisters chatting excitedly about climbing up the oak tree for what seemed to be the hundredth time… Something about a bet, or a dare, I couldn't decide. These two were always up to God-knows-what, despite being adorable six- and eight-year old girls. In truth, little devils who were perfectly able to set the orphanage on fire if given the chance.

I smiled at the thought, holding back a snigger and remembering what I myself used to do when I was their age. Even if Abigail and her younger sibling were a real pain at times, I knew a lot of their tricks, and occasionally approved of their mischief.

"Yahooo!"

A laughing kid zoomed past me at an astonishing speed, his arms spread out like wings. Before I could even utter a word, another, slightly younger boy followed in the same fashion: little Jamie, I reckoned fondly. He was one of the youngest here, being nearly five and a half, and if the Humphrey sisters were devils, well, he for sure was a real angel. He was the kind of kid who rarely cried, even when you had to put him to bed or remind him to eat despised vegetables; the only thing he recoiled at was my tousling his ash-blond hair, and that was saying something.

Smiling, I made my way to the brightly-lit kitchen, humming absent-mindedly, only to find I was not alone. Mary was already there, standing by the sink. Although a few strands of grey in her auburn bun were standing out as of late, she worked with the same seemingly infinite energy she usually displayed around kids and for which I admired her.

For the time being, though, she was just enjoying the hot July afternoon; I couldn't bring myself to joke about this, knowing full well how much she needed rest sometimes. She would really go to amazing lengths to ensure we were all growing up in a safe and warm environment. A familiar sparkle lit up her hazel eyes as she caught sight of me, and I felt my heart swell in my chest. I wanted her to be proud of me, always had: today was no exception.

"Seventeen… I can't believe you'll be turning seventeen so soon, Em." She sighed, slowly shaking her head.

"Mom, it's exactly like turning sixteen. I guess I won't feel any different, you know." With that said, I began sorting the groceries and putting them away.

"How many times will I have to tell you to call me Mary?"

I knew it pained her when I called her Mom, but I couldn't help it sometimes: it just felt so natural. Heck, I had just slipped... She had been the one to raise me, and even if she wasn't my biological mother, well, she still was my surrogate mom at the very least. The stranger who had somehow decided to abandon me at Mary Macdonald's Home for Orphaned Children when I was barely one certainly wasn't.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist!" I answered a bit sharply. "I mean, if anything, I do it mainly to annoy you: it seems to work each time." I added with a small smile, so as to make her understand it didn't bother me. Well, not really...

Said smile quickly turned into a frown as I realised I had forgotten to buy some more milk, and cursed inwardly. At the same time, I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder softly. As if reading my thoughts, Mary's comforting voice suddenly broke the silence.

"Sweetie, I bought a pack of milk yesterday. You don't need to worry about that, okay? I already made sure to have everything I need for your birthday cake."

I nodded, relieved at that, and decided there was enough time to read a bit before dinner. Although she wanted me to take it easy when I could, being the oldest in the house and incidentally on holidays, I felt somewhat guilty not to help more with the daily chores. I tried to brush the thought aside while climbing up the stairs to my room, instead focusing on the book I was currently reading. Stopping to grab it from under the bed where it was lying, I changed my mind and also took a jacket: it would be the good old rooftop tonight; one of my favourite places in the house.

Sitting on the tiles, I had a vantage point of view on the surrounding countryside. At sunset, the sky usually burnt as if on fire, and at any other given time, the sight still was beautiful. To tell the truth, it was the place where, strangely, I felt the safest. Height frightened the youngest, and the older ones, more adventurous, were denied access; this was enough to prevent them from disturbing me at such a time. Even if I took care of them daily and loved them all, I still needed a few minutes away from the cramped living room sometimes.

I gazed at the clouds for a little while, forgetting to even open the novel I had brought with me. Closing my eyes, I began breathing in and out more and more evenly, until...

"EEEMIE! You on the roof?"

Jamie's astonished –and slightly whiny- voice. Well, I guessed I had had enough; too bad I could not stay, but I had other duties to tend to. Stretching a bit, I reached the window pane carefully, shouting back a laid back "Coming!".


	3. Chapter 2

_Hey! Chapter 2 is up! We'd really appreciate some reviews!_

_Disclaimer: We (sadly) do not own Harry Potter; credit for that goes to the brilliant J.K. Rowling._

**Chapter 2**

"Emy?" I tore my eyes away from the beautiful landscape that surrounded me, and looked down at Jamie, mildly annoyed. I'd specifically requested not to be disturbed as I watched the sunset from my own special place. Tomorrow I'd be turning seventeen, and even though it wasn't anything extremely special, it felt weirdly important and I just wanted to be alone to enjoy what felt like my last hours of innocence. I had no idea where the strange feeling of nostalgia came from (it wasn't like I was turning thirty or anything) but I did feel (in a disturbing kind of way) the urge to think about what I was leaving behind. And it wasn't like I was planning on leaving and that this would be my last birthday at the orphanage. I didn't know what I had in mind for my future yet, but it certainly didn't include any departures; I'd been sick of those for as long as I remember.

"What, Jamie?" I yelled a little harshly (yes, I'm a little over-protective of my few hours of alone-time) and loudly so that he could hear me from the lawn.

"Mary says you need to come down right now!" He yelled back, turned around and took off running towards the pond. Grumbling about how teens should make up rules about not being disturbed when they're trying to reach a deep level of reflection, I got down from the rooftop into my bedroom before walking swiftly towards the kitchen, where I knew Mary would be waiting for me. My frustration with Jamie dissolved into thin air as I reached the room and saw that she was holding a little baby in her arms. Oh God, not another one. What the hell were the parents thinking? Is it so hard to restrain yourself from sleeping with people without using protection? Do they actually find having children and leaving them in orphanages_ fun_? My hands curled tightly into fists and it was all I could do to stop myself from grabbing something -anything- and throwing it across the room.

"They just brought her in. Said it was a mistake, couldn't take care of her." Mary wasn't looking at me, but at the kid, smiling sweetly. "Her name's Marnie." How could she possibly sound so calm?

"And yet another little chubby-faced devil", I tried to say lightly, but anger made my voice shake and I was so mad I thought I was going to scream. Mary wheeled around to face me, a knowing look on her face as she took me in.

"Go, Em. Get out of here." she threw the words at me but I was already out of the room, running blindly to reach my bedroom's closet, the one place I could ever afford to lose control in. I threw the door open and locked it after me, standing alone in the dark, perfectly aware of what would be coming next. I was shaking with anger, furious tears blurring my vision, and I could feel the pressure inside of me building, growing bigger until it felt like I was completely filled by it, like my body was stretching itself to hold it in. It was so painful and I felt like my skull was going to explode. I shook my head violently, madly, willing the pain to go away, my hands flailing around uselessly as I fought to hold on to my sanity. And all I could think about was how much I hated them, my parents and all of these adults who didn't seem to grasp what losing your family could do to a child. I loathed them so much that I wished them all to die in the worst painful way, to hurt just like I had when they'd left me here, left me because they were selfish and hateful and horrible and despicable and dreadful and atrocious... The pressure became too much and something burst inside of me. I screamed, unable to hold it in any longer and felt my anger become something more, something too powerful for me to control, an indescribable wave of power which made the walls shake while the stuff in my closet were thrown from their shelves roughly to the ground, the books ripped of their pages, the walls stripped bare of their posters. I fell to my knees, still screeching madly, holding my head, anger and strength slipping out of me like from a deflating balloon while my surroundings went wild. Until, finally, it all stopped. The room wasn't moving any longer and I felt drained of everything, empty, too weak to even hold myself upward; I let myself slide slowly to the ground and curled there, holding my knees in a fetal position, breathing hysterically. It's over, I thought, shaking like a leaf and feeling cold. All over.

The first time it had happened, I'd just turned six and some boy at school had told me that I'd probably been left at the orphanage because my parents didn't want me. I was still in a period where I absolutely worshiped these unknown relatives and kept asking Mary questions about them: what they looked like, what their names were and when they would be coming back for me. At night, I'd lie awake with a bag made up of all my belongings beside me, ready to take off at a moment's notice, waiting to hear them knock at the door. Then I changed my mind; as going through the door wasn't nearly as cool as my parents had to be, they'd land on the roof (no idea as to how they would do that, though) and come through my bedroom window. That's when I started sitting on the roof; I spent endless nights there, just waiting for them, even when it was cold and so dark that I couldn't see the moon. They never came, of course.

Anyway, when that stupid boy let the truth that I wasn't yet ready to hear slip out, I got terribly angry and felt the pressure build up inside for the first time. Before I'd realized what happened, it had actually injured the boy, who somehow got thrown to the ground by it and scraped his knee. It also left me in a freaky state of weakness. The principal never understood what had happened that day. Neither did I for that matter, and when it happened once more six months later (and I broke a wooden bench I'd been standing not far away from), Mary got kind of panicky. She couldn't risk letting me injure one of the young kids of the orphanage, so we sort of got a system going. When I felt the pressure building, I'd go into a closed off space where I couldn't hurt anyone and let the outburst pass; at home, my bedroom closet was chosen as it could be locked from the inside. As I grew, the anger fits grew as well, stronger and more painful; it seemed I did more harm to my surroundings and myself as I became older; when I reached my eleventh birthday, the outbursts got extremely violent and scary. I never learned to control them; they happened less frequently as time went on, and Mary and I learned to recognize the signs that said an outburst was on its way. One thing was certain; they always started with me getting angry.


	4. Chapter 3

_Here is Chapter 3, hope you'll enjoy it :)_

_Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter (even though we wish we did), cause Rowling does! _

**Chapter 3**

July 31st, 1998.

While in a little Welsh village an oblivious Emily Potter was celebrating her 17th birthday, at the Burrow her brother was still engrossed in Bill and Fleur's wedding plans, the upcoming quest to retrieve the Horcruxes, and of course, his own birthday.

Right after a little incident involving Ginny and (unfortunately) a rather jealous Ron, Harry decided they might as well make the most of the free time they had, and discuss their project further, Molly Weasley getting more and more overcome by all that still had to be done. As the guests arrived one by one, the tension in the house moved up a notch; anxiety was showing, one way or another, for sometimes wholly different reasons. The wedding was perhaps one of them, but the recent attacks targeting Muggles and Muggle-borns all over the country really constituted a cause for concern in everyone's mind.

Sitting under an old nut tree in a neighbouring orchard, the Golden Trio was trying to block out Mrs Weasley's tremendous yells, which were for the time being apparently directed at Fred, George, or both of the twins; they were still able to keep an eye on the house, without risking being overheard.

"Don't you think we should have a word with Lupin about those attacks? I mean, without telling him anything he shouldn't know…" Hermione carefully suggested.

"That would raise unwanted questions, wouldn't it?" Harry answered, as stubborn as ever in regard to this particular matter, sticking his hands in his pockets. "The less we talk about it, the fewer questions about Dumbledore's mission we'll be asked."

"Yeah, but Hermione's got a point there, mate."

As the other two looked at him in a slightly concerned way, Ron tried to hold his ground, his ears slowly reaching a nice shade of red.

"Listen, Harry, she's often right about these kinds of stuff. He could give us some more information about recent Death Eater activity, right?"

Opening his mouth to reply, Harry was interrupted by a sudden commotion: the cries had stopped, replaced by muted exclamations, and soon a little group of adults were seen making their way towards the orchard. Ron let out a painful moan, expecting the worse from his mother, while next to him his friends tensed upon taking in the worried faces of the Order's members.

Almost running, Lupin was the first to reach them, Tonks and Mr Weasley not far behind. He was holding a broken mechanical device, which by the looks of it must have been subject to one of the twins' experiments, and as such the source of his wife's anger.

"Harry, we must speak now. The Order's calling an emergency meeting, and you three are more than welcome to come along."

They exchanged an anxious glance, nodding. Hermione brushed off the twigs that were still clinging to her skirt, and unexpectedly took the lead, already bracing herself for some serious business. Her friends, of course, were trying, too, to guess why such an impromptu meeting was being held the day right before the wedding, and soon came to the same conclusion as she did: the consequences of what they had to tell them would without a doubt be tremendous. Gulping, Harry sped up his pace as they headed towards the house. Out of habit, the little group, having picked up the remaining Weasleys, settled in the warm living-room of the Burrow. With the curtains being drawn and Hagrid's massive silhouette standing in the doorway, the crowded room was overall almost dim-lit; a strange, red, filtering light was bathing the space, and Harry came to think uneasily that this gave the usually comfortable room a foreign, menacing quality.

They were all quietly directed to sit down and soon, everybody had found a seat, either on the old, worn-out armchairs or some stools brought from the kitchen. Harry, Ron and Hermione had nonetheless to resort to squeezing on the couch due to a sheer lack of space; this prompted an annoyed 'Ronald, take your hand off the hem of my skirt, _please_' which itself resulted in Harry grinning a bit too conspicuously. He quickly stopped upon finding himself at the receiving end of a death glare from his bushy-haired friend, and the assembly finally fell silent.

Lupin, who appeared to be even more tired than usual, as if he hadn't slept properly for several nights in a row, made sure everyone was listening intently to begin:

"Some of you already know that this morning, we came to learn about yet another... matter," he hesitated on the word, "that could influence the war in a far too significant way to be left aside."

Harry curiously saw Tonks nod somewhat excitedly, and Hagrid lean a bit forward, muttering a gruff, unintelligible answer. That was it.

"Well, to some of you... This might come off as a bit of a shock, I'm afraid," he declared reluctantly. "But the fact is Lily Potter didn't solely give birth to Harry, seventeen years ago, but to two healthy twins."

Glued to the battered couch, Harry let the words slowly sink in, unconsciously clutching his fists. He was unable to even register the wide range of reactions from those who, like him, had just learnt about the existence of another Potter child, his brain still trying to process the shocking truth. Hermione's widened eyes, Molly Weasley's sharp intake of breath, even Bill's muted curse... he couldn't and didn't notice them, only focused on the crazy fact that he, one way or another, had a twin.

Before anyone could reply, though, Harry held up his head and stared, frowning stubbornly at Lupin.

"Is this supposed to be a joke or something? 'Cause I don't find it funny at all."

Crossing his arms, he waited for an answer, letting out a quivering breath.

"He's tellin' yeh the truth. Jus' let him explain, Harry..." Hagrid tried tentatively, obviously worried and confused as to why he just didn't accept it as easily as he had.

Trying to calm down his former pupil, Lupin held out his hands in a peaceful manner.

"You can't be right! Everyone here knows that I don't have any other relatives than the Dursleys!" Harry blurted heatedly. "I... I can't just have another brother popping out now, can I?"

"Not a brother, a twin sister. Even though we don't know exactly what she's like, I'd be willing to bet she looks a lot like you... Her name's Emily, and I'm her godfather." The werewolf answered quietly, preparing for the questions that would undoubtedly follow these statements.

As predicted, a frowning, thoughtful Arthur soon shook his head, still fiddling with his broken device.

"As much as I trust you, Remus, isn't it a bit far-fetched? I'm on Harry's side on this one. How come James and Lily managed to hide that'Emily' so well that nobody remembers her? Did you know from the beginning, and if so, why didn't you tell anyone? I just don't understand, and if Harry's confused, well, his anger is legitimate."

"The whole story, I agree with you, is a tad complicated, Arthur. The basic facts are that, as far as we know, they must have got their hands on the incantation of a complex memory charm, which wiped every reference to this little girl into oblivion. Until today, that is... Hagrid and I remembered very early this morning. Now, you surely all understand that we have to find her as soon as possible. If Voldemort ever learns that Harry Potter has a sister, he _will_ try to use her as bait, and because his Death Eaters are freely roaming the countryside, we can't afford-"

"Wait, how come she didn't go to Hogwarts?"

This time, it was Hermione's turn to interrupt. Harry looked at her, still not wanting to believe that somewhere, he had a sister... That he wasn't an only child as he had always thought. He admitted having been jealous of Ron's large family, his numerous brothers and sister, before. Now, what if he himself had a sibling? What would it be like? He felt hope, for the first time in weeks, real hope in regard to what the future would bring him... Death, perhaps, for Voldemort was in his way, as he had grimly realised that very morning, but also a relative. Emily. How common and yet odd that name sounded, Harry thought idly. Reality caught up with him, though, and he tried to focus on the meeting, still unsure as to what he was to believe.

Upon hearing Hermione's question, Lupin could only shook his head before answering:

"Well... She can't possibly have attended the school: we would have recognised her, even if the memory charm was still active at the time. The Potters' genes are, erm, usually quite strong, especially when it comes to hair. She could have been educated in another European school, like Beauxbâtons for example... In fact, we don't know where she grew up, or where she might still be living."

He had barely finished his sentence, before in a flash of light a silvery basset hound hopped trough the window to land in the middle of the room. Wagging its tail madly, it spoke with the voice of a distinguished old man, immediately identified by the Order's members as Wilkinson:

"Small group of Death Eaters spotted near Aberdare! Dark Mark just cast, they might be targeting Muggles in the area! Remus, please send us back up, Thomas and I won't be able to get there in time..."


	5. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Nope, Harry Potter isn't ours, but Rowling's! _

**Chapter 4**

"This sucks," Jamie grumbled as he kicked a rock off the side of the road into a nearby bush (and probably painfully stubbed his toe, as he was only wearing flip-flops).

"Don't be such a cry-baby," I teased him as I reached over to mess out his hair, "after all, it's your fault you forgot your swimsuit."

"No it isn't! Caitlyn said she'd pack it for me, and then Bobby called her and she went all wacko again…" he sighed in his most particularly heart-breaking manner, "and then she only remembered she didn't have it when we got to the pool."

"So now, here we are, wasting a perfectly sunny afternoon to walk back to the house and get your swimsuit, when we could be bathing into cool water, letting sand run between our toes-"

"There isn't any sand in the community pool, Emy."

"Ssh, I'm trying to create an image here. And you would be trying to get your girlfriend's attention by unnecessarily splashing water around-"

"Amanda isn't my girlfriend!" he cut in with a whiny voice.

"So you'd be trying to drown Caitlyn and I'd be eating an ice-cream while trying to make my tan perfect."

"Cut it out! This isn't funny, it's disastrocious!" he said, using a word we'd made up, just the two of us, about two years ago: it was actually a jumble of "disastrous" and "atrocious" and was only to be used in particularly painful situations. Little Jamie then threw up his skinny arms in a good show of exasperation before crossing them stubbornly on his chest. "Besides, you don't even tan." he scowled.

Ok, the kid had a point there, but I certainly wasn't going to acknowledge it.

"Cheer up," I told him, hitting him playfully on the shoulder and then sticking my hands into my shorts, "we'll be back at the pool in twenty minutes, tops. It's a beautiful day, the birds are singing, I just turned seventeen and there's one month left before school starts. What could possibly be better, eh?"

He lifted his head and grinned up at me. I smiled back and grabbed hold of his hand; he was getting kind of old for this sort of thing, but that wasn't about to stop me. He'd always been like a little brother to me, from the moment he'd entered the orphanage; I remembered it perfectly. Mary had been out that evening, off to visit one of the kids who'd just been adopted by a family who lived in a small village about thirty miles away, and she'd left me in charge. When I'd finally (and somehow successfully) put everyone to bed and was preparing to grab a book to go read in my room, someone knocked at the door. I was only twelve at the time and I'd been warned not to talk, follow, get in the car or accept candy form strangers; but I certainly wasn't a wimp, never was. I also used to dare myself to do stupid and dangerous things just to prove I could do them; it always drove Mary crazy when I pulled stunts like that. She trusted me with the kids, though; as I'd proven countless times that I was perfectly capable of taking care of them. Anyway, when that knock came, I certainly didn't feel like opening the door; it was pitch-black outside, Mary wasn't home, and I was in the middle of reading a particularly spooky Sherlock Holmes: not the best conditions to receive a midnight visitor, right? But of course I had to do it, so I did.

On the threshold stood a woman, carrying something really small in her arms. I remembered thinking that she must have been really cold; her arms were bare and it was below freezing outside. I sort of stepped aside and was about to invite her in but the words stuck in my throat when she held what she was carrying out for me to take it. I saw then that it was a little baby, not more than a few months old. I grabbed him without thinking, and the woman, without a word, just turned around and left as I stood, stunned, with the cold wind piercing me like knife. Numbly, I looked down at the baby and was struck to find him awake and staring at me with huge grey eyes. His chin started to tremble, and his lips suddenly parted to let out a cry that chilled me to the bone. That's when I realized that his mom wasn't coming back, that he was all alone now, that he'd been abandoned, just like me. Slowly, I closed the door, locking it, and cradled him to my chest. I was normally good with little kids; I'd sing a lullaby, hum a soft song or make silly faces and get them to smile and giggle on the spot. But tonight was different, and I simply couldn't put a stop to the cries of the baby in my arms, maybe because I could only think of the night my own parents had left me here, wondering if I had sobbed in the same way. The only thing I could do was hold him tightly against me as I let the tears roll down my cheeks and promised myself that I would never leave him like they had all left us. When Mary came back a few hours later, I was asleep on the floor, with little Jamie cradled in my arms, his tiny hand on my neck and my wet cheek pressed against his sandy hair. I've never let him go since.

"What are you thinking about?" Jamie's voice brought me back to reality, and I had to blink a few times at him before I realized he'd ask me a question. He was watching me curiously. I stuck my tongue out at him childishly:

"None of your business, Jamie-bear!" His mouth slid into a pout and he started to pull his hand out of mine, but I held on to it tightly. "I bet I can reach the house before you can."

"Ugh Emy! It's too hot for a race!"

"Ooh do we have a chicken here, ladies and gentlemen? Is little Jamie-bear scared?" I waggled my eyebrows playfully at him as he looked at me in disbelief.

"I'm no chicken! I could beat you running on one leg with my eyes closed!"

"Prove it, big-shot!"

"Any day, girly-girl!"

I stopped walking abruptly and stared at him in horror:

"Did you just call me what I think you did? Uh huh, no way, Jamie-baby, this is war now."

He positioned himself before an imaginary line with a smirk on his face. I did the same next to him, trying (and failing) to look cool by cracking my knuckles menacingly.

"Your right foot is on the line."

"Emy, there's no line!"

"Hey, you called me a girl, this just got very serious ; we are going to do this by the book."

With a big and dramatic sigh, he managed to move his foot about two inches back before saying very fast: "ThreetwooneGO!"

We both took off running as fast as we could down the narrow road towards the house. He was pretty quick for a kid his size and stayed close on my heels the entire way, but I still managed to get to the front gate before him. When I stepped into the garden though, I stopped dead in my tracks. Something wasn't right. Jamie ran into me, hard, and began whining about it until he directed his own attention towards what I was staring at: Mary, wearing a pretty summer dress, was crossing the garden in quick strides with worry written all over her face.

" Something's wrong," I muttered to myself. I couldn't have been more right.


End file.
